Secret Horse (7 page)

Carole wanted to savor the letter, so she waited till after dinner to read it. Then she stretched out on the
couch and ripped it open. She laughed when she saw Red’s handwriting. It was just like chicken scratching!

Startled, Carole sat up on the couch. She reread the last two sentences before going on to the end of the letter.

Frowning, Carole put the letter down. Her father was watching an old black-and-white movie on the VCR. Carole stared at the TV screen without seeing it. She had been so single-minded lately that the most obvious,
and important, question had completely slipped her mind. In all these days of zealous preparation, it had never once occurred to her: Who would ride Samson in the actual show?

Carole sat back against the couch, brooding. Subconsciously, maybe she
had
been planning to ride him herself. She had the most experience in showing, after all. And she had the connection to Cobalt, Samson’s father. It seemed only right that she should be there when Cobalt’s son made his jumping debut. But Red’s letter pin-pointed something else. Carole had also never considered
not
riding Starlight. From the moment she’d seen the Macrae program tacked to the bulletin board, she’d pictured herself and Starlight soaring over those gorgeous fences. Since
before
she’d seen the program, in fact. Since she’d first discovered
Starlight’s
jumping ability. And if there was one thing Carole put a premium on, it was loyalty to her own horse. They had come this far together. No matter how much she cared for Samson, no matter how great a jumper the black gelding was going to be, she would never desert Starlight. It wouldn’t be right.

“That settles that,” Carole said aloud. Except that it didn’t. The question still remained.

“What? You mean the ending?” Colonel Hanson piped up. “When’s the last time you saw
Casablanca
?”

“What? Huh, Dad? Oh, I wasn’t talking about the movie. I was just thinking aloud,” Carole explained.

“Good,” said Colonel Hanson, “because there are several major plot twists still to come. We’re nowhere near a resolution.”

Carole laughed. Watching old movies was one of her father’s favorite pastimes. “When’s the last time
you
saw
Casablanca
?” she asked.

Colonel Hanson thought for a moment. “Now that we own it, I like to pop it in every couple of weeks. So probably … two Thursdays ago.”

Smiling, Carole said, “Then I’ll have to watch it with you again in two Thursdays. Because right now I’ve got to hit the hay.”

“Anything wrong?” her father inquired, muting the set.

Carole shook her head. “No, I’ve just got to think. There’s a situation at Pine Hollow that Stevie, Lisa, and I …” Carole groped for a way to describe it so that her father would understand. “Let’s just say we’re nowhere near a resolution.”

Colonel Hanson nodded. “You may be closer than you think,” he said. “The easiest path is probably the straight one.”

Carole raised her eyebrows. “Is that
Casablanca
talking?” she asked, surprised.

Colonel Hanson shook his head. “No, honey. You can learn a lot from
Casablanca
but not everything. That advice comes directly from one of the fortune cookies I ate at lunch.”

“Oh, Dad!” Carole said. She tossed a pillow at him, which he deftly deflected.

As she stood up to go, Red’s letter fluttered to the floor. Retrieving it, Carole noticed writing on the back that she hadn’t seen before. She read it going up the stairs to her bedroom.

An excellent point
, Carole thought, brushing her teeth. As a green horse, Samson would be surprised by any new course he encountered. But his surprise might be softened if he had successfully negotiated a few strange courses before the Macrae. Making a mental note to talk to Stevie and Lisa about it in the morning, Carole climbed into bed.

She was nearly asleep when her brain clicked on something that brought her back to consciousness. She opened both eyes. But once she was awake she couldn’t remember what it was that had occurred to her. “I hate that!” she murmured. Turning onto her other side, she
tried to recall her train of thought. Exposing Samson to different jumps … Stevie and Lisa … making a mental note … Stevie … Lisa … 
Lisa!
That was it! All week Carole had been noticing something about Lisa. But she had only just now
noticed
that she had noticed: Lisa had been acting strange lately. Carole couldn’t put her finger on one single thing she’d said or done that was strange. But she still had the impression that something was bothering Lisa. Sometimes when The Saddle Club was talking, Lisa’s face would fall. Or she would look as if she was about to say something, but then she wouldn’t. It was almost as if she had a secret of her own—a secret besides their secret horse. Carole could think of any number of reasons why Lisa hadn’t been herself. But before she could consider them, Carole was asleep.

F
IRST THING THE
next morning, Carole mentioned Red’s letter. She omitted the question of who was going to ride Samson. That could be settled later. The important thing now was making sure Samson would need a rider at all. “The first thing Max is going to say when we ask him about the Macrae is, ‘Samson’s never jumped a single fence off Pine Hollow property.’ But if he can get a few different courses under his belt—”

“Girth, you mean,” Stevie corrected her.

Carole rolled her eyes. “Ahem, under his
girth
, then we’ll already be one step ahead.”

“Or one stride ahead.”

“Or one
stride
ahead,” Carole agreed, shaking her head at Stevie.

“Carole,” Lisa suggested, “what about Mr. Grover’s course?”

“That would be perfect,” Carole said. “I’ll bet he’d love to see how Samson’s doing now.”

“You’ve bet right,” said Lisa. “Five minutes ago he was standing by Samson’s stall admiring him.”

“You mean—”

“Mr. Grover’s here?” Stevie said.

Lisa nodded. She beckoned for the two girls to follow her outside. There she pointed to a two-horse trailer parked in the driveway. “I saw him come in. That’s what made me think of it.”

“But that’s even more perfect!” Carole exclaimed. “Why don’t we see if he can give us a ride over this morning?”

Lisa shrugged. “Sounds good to me. He’s in the office talking to Max.”

Stevie’s eyes lit up. “I think it’s time for me to go to work,” she said. “You guys wrap Samson’s legs for the trailer. Don’t let anyone see you. I’ll try to distract Max. When Mr. Grover comes out, nab him and let him in on the secret.” She paused for a moment. “If anything goes wrong, say … say ‘Hippopotamus,’ ” Stevie decided.

“Hippopotamus?” said Carole and Lisa in unison.

“Shouldn’t we use a more normal word?” Lisa asked.

Stevie shook her head. “No way. If you choose a more normal word, somebody might use it by accident.”

Giggling a little, the three girls split up. Carole went to get cotton and bandages from the tack room. Lisa went to put a halter on Samson. Stevie crept stealthily toward Max’s office.

“… other than the Macrae, not much to report,” Max was saying. Stevie winced. A minute earlier and she would have heard the lowdown on the horse show! It wasn’t fair.

“All right. I guess I’d better load up that horse and get going,” said Mr. Grover. “It’s been great talking to you, Max.” There was a sound of chairs scraping back as the men stood up.

“Here, I’ll walk you out,” said Max.

Knowing she had no time to lose, Stevie burst into the room. “Hello, Max—Mr. Grover!” she said brightly.

“Hello, Stevie, how are you?” said Mr. Grover.

“Great,” said Stevie, “but, um … Max, I’ve been meaning to ask you a question about last week’s lesson. You see, lately when I ride Belle—”

“Excuse me, Stevie, but can your question wait a moment?” Max said. “I’d like to show Mr. Grover out.”

“Oh. Okay. In that case, let’s all go—out, I mean,” Stevie said.

“Good,” said Max. “In fact, I’ve got an idea. Why don’t you help Mr. Grover wrap Gold Dust?”

“O-Okay,” Stevie said uncertainly. “That’s the new chestnut, right?”

“Right,” said Max. “Last stall on the left. He’s going over to Mr. Grover’s for a couple of months.”

Stevie thought fast. As she and the two men left Max’s office, Carole appeared around the corner, carrying a pile of cotton and bandages. “Did you know that
hippopotamus
means ‘river horse’?” Stevie said loudly.

Max gave her a sharp look, which Stevie ignored. Carole slowed in her tracks. “Oh, Carole—great. You can wrap Gold Dust with those. He’s going over to Mr. Grover’s today.”

Carole raised her eyebrows but nodded. “Sure thing,” she said, hurrying away.

“Now, Max, can you please answer my question?” Stevie said.

“Okay, what is it?” Max asked.

“I can’t just say it. I have to demonstrate.”

Max stared at Stevie suspiciously. “Stevie, I really—”

“Aw, go ahead, Max. Carole will help me with Gold Dust,” said Mr. Grover affably.

“Very well,” replied Max. “I’ll give you about two minutes, Stevie, and then I really have to—”

“Max?” called a familiar voice. “Max?”

“Yes!” Max fairly shouted. “Oh. Sorry, Mom,” he said sheepishly as Mrs. Reg came up to the group.

“There’s a telephone call for you,” announced Mrs. Reg. “Mrs. diAngelo on the line.”

Stevie smiled with glee as Max’s face got two degrees blacker. A call from Mrs. diAngelo was better than any time-wasting scheme of her own. With her silly questions and self-centered requests, Veronica’s mother might keep Max on the phone all morning.

The second Max and Mrs. Reg had gone, Stevie hustled Mr. Grover down the aisle toward Samson’s stall. “Mr. Grover, we need your help,” she began urgently, then launched into an explanation of Project Secret Horse.

“Can you recap the training you’ve done so far?” Mr. Grover inquired when Stevie had finished outlining their plan.

“Sure. We started out really slowly with individual small jumps. Gradually we set up a course of jumps and raised the height to near where they’ll be at the Macrae.”

“Hmmm … And you think Samson’s just as promising now as the day you discovered his ability?” asked the horse trainer.

“More so, if anything,” Stevie replied. “He’s still really green, but he knows what he’s doing now. He’s quieter; he goes at a steadier pace. And he’s never refused a fence. Oops!” Stevie leaned over to the nearest
stall door to knock wood. “Wouldn’t want to tempt fate.”

Mr. Grover was silent, thinking for a few moments. Finally Stevie could wait no longer. The Saddle Club was dying for a real professional’s opinion. “So, what do you think?” she asked, crossing and uncrossing the fingers of her right hand.

“I think it’s a fantastic idea!” Mr. Grover exclaimed. “I’d want to see the horse jump myself, of course—”

Stevie grinned. “That can be arranged,” she said. Briefly she outlined their idea for the day. “Count me in,” said Mr. Grover. “Let’s get him into the trailer before Max gets off the phone.”

By that point the two had reached Samson’s stall.

“We’re ready and waiting!” Lisa called from inside. After a precautionary glance left and right, she and Carole led out the black horse, wrapped for travel.

“Was that part about Gold Dust a joke?” Carole whispered.

“No, I’m really taking him,” said Mr. Grover. “But load up Samson first and then we’ll go back for the chestnut.”

The girls did as he said. Samson walked right onto the trailer, stuck his face into the hay net, and began munching. Only his black rump was visible from outside of the trailer. Meanwhile, Stevie had led out Gold Dust.
She was heading toward the trailer when Carole ran up to her.

“You forgot the bandages!” she whispered.

Stevie looked down at Gold Dust’s legs. “Darn!”

“I’ll get them,” said Lisa.

Carole grabbed her arm. “Wait!”

The three of them froze as Max walked out into the driveway. “If he recognizes Samson, the jig is up!” Stevie muttered. Carole elbowed her to be quiet. Behind them a door was shut. Mr. Grover emerged from the truck. “All set? Oh, hi, Max. We’re just getting loaded up.”

“So I see. I didn’t realize you had another horse in tow.”

To keep from laughing nervously, Stevie focused intently on Gold Dust.